Not Titled **For Now**
by Emanon
Summary: Narrative story based on the Original RE. **Rating May Change Later** Rated for swearing/violence
1. 1

Disclaimer:  Don't own anything in this one, all characters belong to the people at Capcom

A/N: My first attempt at a RE fic…I don't know if I'm actually going to run with this or if I'm just doing what's already been done a million times.  This is kind of a back story, plus a narrative of the events that occur at the Mansion.  Based totally on the original RE game, and all the characters that appear there

"Did you read this crap?" Jill Valentine sat at her desk, idly scrolling through an interoffice memo that had found it's way to her E-mail.  

            "What crap would that be?"  Redfield's desk was directly behind hers; Valentine didn't need to turn to know he was sitting there, feet kicked up, hands laced behind his head. 

            Valentine chuckled and mocked a deep announcer voice.  "More reports of wild dog attacks in the woods near the old logging road." She sighed and turned her computer off without bothering to save anything.  

            "Wild dogs, huh? Call in the fucking national guard," Redfield laughed.  "What's next…rabid chipmunks reported in the mall?  And who the hell is out that far to get attacked by dogs anyway? There's nothing out there."

            Valentine shrugged.  "Hell if I know.  We did our last training mission out that way last month though.  The only thing I can think of is some hunters doing a little poaching and trying to swerve the boys downstairs."

            There was a lack of the usual contempt in her voice as she spoke of the so-called 'regular' police.  Most of the members of S.T.A.R.S. shared the same view: that they were, by definition, better than the men and women who served the city as officers of the law.

            S.T.A.R.S. itself was hard to explain.  While Raccoon City boasted a fairly large population, Valentine was often…troubled…by the sheer numbers of police personnel she came into contact with every day.  And when her squad was added in…it was staggering.  The Special Tactics and Rescue Squad, or S.T.A.R.S., was an add on.  They were basically soldiers, trained in search and rescue, more advanced in weapons, and wholly independent of the rest of the stationhouse.   When she'd first been approached, Valentine had been told that Raccoon City had offered the best possible area for the type of training they would require.  With mountains, forests, and lakes, hot dry summers and freezing, snowy winters, the area gave them each a chance to fine tune their profession no matter what the circumstances.  

            So far, in her year as a mechanical specialist for the group, Valentine had seen no form of action, save for the routine practice runs that Wesker, their group commander, insisted on putting them through.  The S.T.A.R.S. team was given quarters in the police station in town; one small room on the second floor of the huge building.  Valentine, Redfield, Wesker, and Burton had desks there.  As did Chambers, a new recruit to the Bravo team, and medical specialist to the team as a whole.  A communications center was placed in one corner  of the room; usually Aiken would be there, turning dials and pressing buttons.  He serviced the entire PD, not just the S.T.A.R.S., even though he was a member of their group.  Most of the members had other work they did for the police, save Valentine and Redfield.

            For Valentine, there was no job on the police force that captured her attention.  She liked having the freedom of being a part of S.T.A.R.S., of running her own life on her own terms.  The pay was of course, ridiculous, considering they really did nothing to earn it.  Even that didn't matter much.  Her parents had died when she'd been a senior in high school, and her father had been something of an insurance nut.  She had more money than she knew what to do with.  Her father had one hobby, which he'd passed on, much to her mother's chagrin, to his only daughter.  A love of firearms.  Jill had quite an extensive collection, starting with her father's guns and culminating in the weapons she'd bought on her own.  She was well practiced with every one of them, remembering her father's one rule about firearms; don't fear them, know them.  She had taken that advice to heart.  Her ability to handle weapons of any caliber had led to her finally signing on with the S.T.A.R.S.  She had a natural knack for figuring out how things worked, why things didn't work, and how to make things work again.  

            Redfield's own story was a little more complicated.  He'd been a member of the US Air Force until he was discharged.  No one but Redfield himself, and possibly Burton, knew the full details.  He'd drifted through life for a while until he'd met Burton.  Burton had become something of a father figure to Redfield, and had guided him to a job with the S.T.A.R.S. His basic distrust of authority had caused him some trouble, but had not stopped him from quickly rising in the ranks.  He was now second in command, able to do the jobs of just about any of the other members of the group.  His specialty was weaponry, although he focused mainly on just the tools the group would need in the field.  He was also an accomplished pilot, and he could think quickly on his feet, a trait that was invaluable in their line of work.  

            Both Valentine and Redfield were members of the Alpha team.  With Wesker as their head, they were backed up by Burton, another weapons specialist, and Vickers, their sometimes…cowardly information and intelligence expert.  Also on their team was Frost, their vehicle specialist.  They were considered the combat section of their group, only to be used in extreme situations.

            The Bravo team was slightly more diverse.  Enrico Marini headed the second group.  He was fiercely prideful of the position, and sometimes viewed Redfield with distrust.  He thought the younger man was a threat to his leadership role.  Chambers, the newest member, was their medical expert.  She spent most of her time working in the emergency room of the city hospital, just to keep her on her toes.  Forest Spyer was a former Army sergeant who now acted as the team's vehicle specialist.  He was also well trained in the use of rifles.  He's become the group's sniper when word of his marksmanship had gotten out.   Sullivan was their field scout/chemistry expert.  He often worked alongside Chambers gathering information for medical use.  And Aiken…he worked with both the Alpha and the Bravo teams, going with whichever team needed him at the moment.

            Valentine stood and stretched languidly.  She hated being cooped up on the office all day long, while the entire police department seemed to be buzzing with activity.  She'd been feeling…wound up all day long.  As if something was looming on the horizon.  She had no clue what it was, but could almost feel it growing closer with every minute that passed.  

            "Speaking of poaching and breaking the law…" Redfield was, indeed, in a relaxed pose on his cluttered desk.  "Where the hell is everybody at today? I saw Burton downstairs when I came in, but the rest are…" he made a dismissive gesture with his hand.  

            "I dunno…" Valentine brushed at the front of her blue shirt.  "Probably out on a training exercise.  Most of their gear is gone from the vault." The vault was a large room in the basement, where the S.T.A.R.S. team kept their equipment.  

            "Lucky them," Redfield said with a  laugh.  He dropped his feet to the floor and looked at Valentine questioningly.  "Hey…wanna go grab some…"  Before he could finish, the door to the office was slung open. 

            Their leader, Wesker, stood there, his calm demeanor hard to read.  The sunglasses he perpetually wore were settled firmly on his face.  Valentine and Redfield both looked at him expectantly.  

            "Suit up. We have a job," he said it in a short, clipped tone, completely unlike his normal voice.  He was all business.  "Rendezvous in the vault in fifteen.  And the usual con  level is in effect.  DO NOT talk to anyone from the time you leave this room til you get to the basement.  Now move!" With that, he turned and slammed the door behind him.

            Valentine shared an amused glance with Redfield before grabbing her locker key from the top of her desk where she'd tossed it.  "Looks like we're about to join in the fun with team Bravo," she stated, as Redfield stood up from his chair.  

            "Yeah…maybe," he shrugged.  Probably just another training day…but there had definitely been something…odd…about Wesker's behavior.  His curiosity roused, he followed Valentine out the door and into the hallway, sure he wouldn't have to wait long to find out just what the hell had Albert's underwear in a knot. 


	2. 2

The ride to the mansion was a non-event for all of the members of the Bravo team.  Marini was in his usual position inside the HumVee, in the front passenger seat.  A laptop computer was open on his lap, and his fingers slammed the keys as he scrolled through page after page of what looked to be local area maps.  With a curse, he slammed the lid shut.

            "So…uh…boss," as usual, Spyer was the one to break into the team's silence.  "Gonna tell us what the hell we're doing in the middle of the woods? Or does Wesker just wanna see us making asses out of ourselves again?"  His eyes never left the rutted dirt track that served as a road to their target location.  Spyer babied the large vehicle through a sharp turn, then slowed down for a series of potholes.  

            "Yeah…another fucked up goose chase," Aiken said from his seat behind Spyer.  "Christ.  How many of these little games is he gonna play before he decides we're all up to par?"

            Chambers listened to the men talking from her position in the back of the vehicle.  There was room for her to sit in the back seat between Aiken and Sullivan, but she preferred to sit in the cargo hold.  Her medical bag was open in front of her, and she was taking a quick inventory of everything she'd been told to bring.

            "You'll all be briefed when we get in there," Marini said gruffly.  He shoved the laptop under his seat and crossed his arms, subject closed.  It was no secret to him that his team, along with most of the Alpha team, thought of Wesker as an asshole.  But he was still the boss, and the position begged for at least a minimum of respect.  

            "I didn't even know there was anything back here to get to," Sullivan said softly, staring out the window at the wild tangle of woods that surrounded them.  Along with Chambers, he was considered a newby to the S.T.A.R.S.  As far as he knew, he was the only one who'd been actively…or aggressively, recruited to the team by Wesker.  Sullivan had a degree in chemistry and ten years of Army Ranger training under his belt.  

            The Bravo Team was considered the scientific part of the S.T.A.R.S.  They were, they presumed, scouts and information gatherers, used to determine what, if any, action would be required from the Alpha team.  Considering the kind of firepower that the Alphas usually packed, it seemed improbable to Sullivan that their special 'services' would ever be needed.  

            "Wow…" Chambers' soft exclamation from behind him pulled him from his reverie.  He looked out the front window the HumVee, and his eyes widened.  The entire team stared ahead, not able to speak.

            In the middle of nowhere, or so it seemed, the woods pressing against the road suddenly opened up.  The dirt road turned into smooth black pavement.  Spyer stepped on the brake instinctively as they made the transition, as if the new surface were something foreign and not to be trusted.  

            It wasn't the clearing, or the road, that caught their attention though.  The site of their mission, their reason for being here, had effectively wiped out their ability to speak. The mansion sat at the top of a small rise, lush green lawns surrounding it, it's sheer size hard to digest in just one look.  A ten foot high metal stake fence surrounded it, crossing the road in a formidable looking gate.  Spyer came to a complete stop and they all waited for someone to break the silence.

            Marini finally cleared his throat.  When Wesker had said a house at the end of the logging road, he'd assumed it would be a run down log cabin.  The woods were full of such dwellings, leftovers from a time when cutting down the massive trees around them had been the only livelihood of Raccoon City.  

            "Ok, people.  Usual rules apply.  We walk from here," He managed to keep his tone even, but he couldn't tear his eyes from the magnificent building that sprawled in front of them.  "Gear up," With that, he swung his door open and stepped out onto the road.

            The rest of the team followed.  Spyer opened the rear hatch of the HumVee, and helped Chambers down to the ground.  Once she was out of the way, he popped open the cargo hatch and began handing out what they'd brought.  Sidearms were strapped on, strictly out of habit.  The only one who didn't carry a gun was Chambers; as their medic she wasn't rated for combat.  Aiken opened his heavy pack, pulling out a tangle of black wires.  Each member of the team received an earpiece and a walkie-talkie, standard procedure for any mission they went on.  He made sure they were all hooked in and working properly, then he rezipped his pack and shouldered it.  He would carry their com phone for the entire mission, and follow Marini throughout the drill.  

            Marini watched as they finished their preparation, then reached into the cargo hold.  He pulled out a small, but powerful grenade launcher and handed it to Spyer, who took it wordlessly.  This was something completely out of the norm.  Such firepower was normally reserved for the bulletheads of the Alpha team.  

            "You're our best shot, and ammo is limited, so make sure you know what you're shooting at," Marini said slowly.  "If you have to shoot at all."

            "You think there's going to be shooting?" Spyer asked, wrapping his hand around the launcher's pistol grip experimentally.

            "I don't know.  Time for a briefing," He motioned to them to gather around and waited a moment before beginning.  "At Oh-9 this morning, the Raccoon City Police received a garbled distress transmission, via CB radio.  Wesker intercepted the call, and got the order from Chief Irons to let S.T.A.R.S. handle the situation." As he spoke, he pulled a map from his pocket.  "This…mansion…is not on any of our database maps.  Wesker marked it's location…" he opened the map and spread it on the floor of the cargo hold.  They all took a brief look at it, but it seemed as if it was just Marini's way of stalling for time.

            "Ok, so a distress call," Spyer shrugged.  "Way the hell out here? Is this place some kinda rich boy retreat?"

            Marini sighed.  "Wesker was vague on any kind of details.  What we have here is a medical research facility.  He estimates that there are at least forty scientists living and working in this place."

            "Medical…what kind of research?" Chambers asked curiously.  She'd never heard of a research facility this close to Raccoon City.  And from the look on Sullivan's face, neither had he.

            "That I don't know," Marini said, shaking his head.  "What we have to do is very basic.  Secure the area.  Investigate the source of the distress call.  Aid anyone who may need it.  And overall…decide if we need to call in the reinforcements."

            Spyer was looking the mansion, amused.  "As fucking quiet as it is? Sure, tell 'em to drive a tank through the front door."

            "Almost too quiet," Chambers muttered.

            "What?" Aiken looked at her strangely.  He'd been thinking the exact same thing.  

            "Listen.  We're in the middle of the woods.  Do you hear anything at all?" Chambers looked around.  Though it was the middle of the day, the sky was overcast, lending everything a shadowed look.  

            "I hear…uh…" Sullivan didn't finish.

            "Nothing," Chambers said.  "No birds.  No bugs.  I grew up in the woods, and on cloudy days the crickets would just about drive you insane.  But…there's nothing here." Not even a puff of wind disturbed the trees that surrounded the mansion.  A chill worked it's way down her spine.  

            "Whether or not there are noises out here…" Marini said with more force than he'd intended.  "Our mission is inside." He gestured at Spyer.  "See if you can get that gate open.  Let's get this show on the road."


	3. 3

Valentine rubbed her arms, chilly in spite of the jacket she was wearing.  The Alpha team was gathered in a loose circle, looking from one to the other but not talking.  Wesker hadn't made an appearance yet.  Typical of him to gather them all then make them wait.

            None of them were in combat gear.  Everything was sitting ready on steel shelves in the center of the room, prepared in case the Go order was given.  Constant training had made this practice a habit.  

            "Ahem…well…" Burton raised an eyebrow.  He was the oldest of the group, kind of a father figure to all of them.  Especially to Redfield; if it weren't for Barry, then Chris wouldn't be with S.T.A.R.S.  "Nothing like a nice dark basement to boost team morale."

            Valentine smirked.  Leave it to Burton to try to make a lame joke when none of them were sure what the hell was going on.  It was his way of dealing with the unknown.  She wondered if his secret weapon against any enemy would be making them roll their eyes so much they went blind.  He was such a good-natured bear of a guy that she couldn't help but think he was hiding something.  He was always just a little too…happy…for her taste.  As if the man had never seen a bad day.

            The door behind them slammed open, making all of them look around.  Wesker came striding in, his sunglasses glinting in the harsh fluorescent lights overhead.  He looked at each of them without saying a word, then went to the shelves, inspecting what had been placed there.

            "Valentine, Redfield…" they both moved toward him, ready for their orders.  "The rest of you listen up. This shit might be well and good for a picnic in the park, but I want a full combat arsenal setup ready to go."

            "This is our full combat arsenal," Frost said softly.  "For the kind of combat we're supposed to be…" his voice faded away when he became away that behind those mirrored lenses, Wesker was staring him down.

            "Full combat.  Except for you two," He nodded at Valentine and Redfield.  "You two are appointed out machinist and our communications expert until further notice.  You will travel light."

            "Where exactly are we going?" Valentine wasn't intimidated by Wesker.  Most of the time it seemed to her as if he were a boy playing war games.  And she didn't trust anyone who constantly hid their eyes.  

            "That won't be answered until mission time," Wesker said gruffly.  "Frost, you carry the pack." This brought a groan from the younger man.  Frost was the Alpha team's vehicle man, which meant he'd usually stay in the vicinity of their transport.  But if he was carrying the pack…

            Frost glanced into the metal cage.  The pack was the nickname they gave the large caliber machine gun that they sometimes used during practice missions.  Carrying it and it's ammo around would be like slogging around an extra person.  Then again…it would be his first time at ever getting to handle the big gun.  He wondered why he was suddenly getting picked for the job now.

            "Burton, how are we on weapons?"

            Burton shrugged.  "Same as always.  Everyone has their own preference, and I've stocked them with ammo.  Armor piercing, for the most part.  Other than that…you didn't say you wanted to requisition anything from the PD."

            "I don't," Wesker said dismissively.  "Valentine, get the com gear together.  Walkie's only.  No ear buds." She gave him a skeptical frown, but moved to get the equipment.  That was against their usual protocol.  They never went anywhere without two ways to communicate to the rest of the team.  And the damn walkie talkies were so bulky, they were more a nuisance than a lifesaver.  

            As she ran through them, checking the battery charges and the channels, she listened as Wesker barked out more orders.  From the sounds of it, he was getting ready to go to war.  But what kind of war would they be fighting with normal side arms and outdated coms?  If this was some kind of test, she didn't get the point. 

            "Knives.  For everyone," Wesker was saying to Redfield.  This earned another strange look.

            "Knives? You expecting some hand to hand?" Redfield made no move to get the asked for item.  Wesker looked at him steadily.  "Don't you think you should have given a little warning that this was going to be close quarters? Vickers and Frost haven't been fully trained in those areas." As Wesker's unofficial second in command, it was Redfield's place to question his requests.  

            "I do not know what I'm 'expecting'," The tone of his voice set off alarms in Valentine's head.  He was lying.  He had to know something.  "But I do expect that my team will follow my orders and do as I say.  Now…the knives."

            Redfield muttered under his breath but went to a gray steel locker.  Insider were combat knives, all hung neatly against the back wall.  The shelves held belts.  He handed out one of each item to the people in the room save Wesker.  When everyone had their knives strapped on, he took one for himself.

            "The time is now…" Wesker glanced at the watch that gleamed on his wrist. "1600 hours.  At approximately Oh-9 this morning, the Raccoon City police dispatch picked up a faint signal.  A distress call, placed from a CB radio on a police channel.  Bravo team moved on the call.  We traced the origin, and sent them to gather information on the area and the situation." Wesker's head moved, giving the impression that he was looking from one person to the next to make sure they were listening.  

            "Approximately half an hour ago, we lost contact with their radio man, Aiken."

            "Not unusual…these mountains…" Vickers cleared his throat nervously.  He was having a hard time accepting that this was the real thing.  

            Wesker rewarded him with a slight frown.  "This is after losing com signals from all other members of the Bravo team."  He tapped his watch.  "The last signal from Aiken was garbled beyond understanding.  We can only assume that they are in great danger."

            "So you're sending us in with peashooters and pocket knives?" Redfield asked, incredulous.

            "You are a trained combat soldier," Wesker said, his tone growing cold.  "You of all people know that mobility is as important as armament." He again glanced around.  "We don't know what Bravo team encountered, if they even encountered anything.  Which is why we are going in light.  If we need to, we will abandon the mission and return here to base to gather anything we deem necessary."

            "So…you're saying we won't need it most likely?" Vickers asked hopefully.  

            Wesker nodded.  "You're training as a combat specialist already puts each of you ahead of the Bravo team.  Plus…our target is not the house they were investigating.  We are merely going to post outside and observe for the time being.  Perhaps it is a false alarm on our parts.  If so, Valentine will confirm it when we're within range.  Then we'll return here, and let Bravo handle their mission."

            "Simple as that, huh?" Redfield asked suspiciously.  

            "It can be.  We leave in exactly fifteen," Wesker said, ending any urge for further questions.  Save one.

            "Um.." Vickers again spoke up.  "Bravo took the HumVee.  How are we getting to wherever it is we're going?"

            Wesker smiled coldly.  "Helicopter.  You'll be piloting.  I'm sure you're happy to hear that."  With that, he strode toward the door.  "Meet up on the roof in ten." Without a backward glance, he was gone, slamming the door behind him.

            Valentine looked at the walkie talkie in her hand.  So much drama for a look-see.  And the use of a PD helicopter? None of it rang true.  The unease she felt was mirrored in the faces of her teammates as they silently gathered their things.


End file.
